


what's meant to be

by Fives (janfives90)



Series: ain't going out like that [1]
Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, weird west au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 21:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janfives90/pseuds/Fives
Summary: Word spreads rapidly through Edgewater when a stranger rides into town.She has barely taken two steps into the saloon before the blacksmith has told the owner of the general store, who has told the livery owner, who has told the town doctor, who has told the priest, who has told the innkeeper.





	what's meant to be

Word spreads rapidly through Edgewater when a stranger rides into town.

She has barely taken two steps into the saloon before the blacksmith has told the owner of the general store, who has told the livery owner, who has told the town doctor, who has told the priest, who has told the innkeeper.

The stranger removes her hat, playing with the brim between her fingers as she walks up to the counter.

“What can I get for you?” the barkeep asks, cautiously, studying her with suspicion.

“I’m not here for a drink. I was only wondering if you could point me in the direction of the gunsmith.”

The barkeep pauses, her eyes narrow. “Make a right out of the door and head down six buildings. You’ll find it.”

The stranger smiles and nods, briefly setting her hat over her chest. “Thank you kindly, miss.” She sets the hat back on her head, pulling the black brim down over her blonde hair, and whistles a quiet melody to herself as she walks out of the saloon.

She pauses at the hitch just outside, taking a moment to pat her American Paint horse on the nose. “You’ll be fine here. I’ll retrieve you when I have a moment.” She takes a moleskin notebook out of her saddlebag and slips it into the back pocket of her pants, then begins heading in the direction she was given.

* * *

The innkeeper’s daughter grabs the town drunk by the back of his shirt, dragging him out the front door and pushing him out into the road.

“I’ve told you before, sir,” she growls. “This is not the place for you.”

“Have a heart, miss,” the man complains, staring up at her with pleading eyes. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“You do. _Home._ You would be there if you weren’t spending all of your time destroying my mother’s inn with your drunken rages.”

He stands, his hands clenching into fists, his eyes hardening in an instant. “You have no right to judge me, little girl. Allow me back inside.”

The innkeeper’s daughter laughs. “No.”

He takes a step forward, the threat clear. “Do not make a stupid decision, little girl.”

_Click._

“Don’t you make one either, sir.”

The innkeeper’s daughter looks over, startled to see a woman her age, in black pants, black boots, black suspenders, a black cowboy hat, a black bandana around her neck, and a light blue long-sleeve cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. She has her revolver out of the holster at her waist, raised and aimed directly at the man’s chest.

“And who in God’s name are you?” he demands.

The stranger grins at him. “I don’t give my name that easily, sir. Why don’t you worry less about who I am and more about what I’ll do if you don’t back away from the nice lady now?”

He pauses. “You don’t have it in you.”

“How would you know if you don’t know who I am?”

The town drunk glances at the innkeeper’s daughter, then takes a step back.

The stranger calmly slides her revolver back into its holster. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

He rounds on her, furious. “Why don’t you mind your damn business?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever found the cowardice to do that, sir. How often do you?”

The innkeeper’s daughter laughs, a sound she muffles behind her hand.

The man rushes the few feet between himself and the stranger, taking a swing at her face. He makes contact with her jaw, making her stumble, but before he can swing again she pulls a small pepperbox revolver out of her pocket and aims it right between his eyes to stop him in his tracks.

“Sir,” the stranger says softly. “I advise you to walk away.”

He pauses, just for a moment, then turns on the heel of his boot and walks away.

The innkeeper’s daughter steps off her porch. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that. The man’s more talk than threat.”

The stranger gives a quiet laugh. “Yes, that punch was quite the conversation.”

She takes a handkerchief out of the pocket of her skirt, using it to wipe a thin line of blood off of the corner of the stranger’s mouth. _“More_ talk doesn’t mean _no_ threat, admittedly.” She tilts her head to the side, regarding the stranger with interest. “You’re new here. Passing through? That’s typically the only reason anyone new comes here.”

“Perhaps. I have business with your gunsmith. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying.”

“Well. I _do_ help run the only inn in town. I imagine that I’ll be seeing you, miss.”

The stranger gives a slow grin. “I would appreciate that.”

The innkeeper’s daughter lifts the stranger’s left arm by her wrist, pressing the handkerchief into her hand. “For the blood,” she murmurs. She glances down, and freezes.

A tattoo that was not there before is becoming visible, a thick black band around the stranger’s forearm.

“Is something wrong, miss?”

“No,” the innkeeper’s daughter says through gritted teeth, looking back quickly into the stranger’s hazel eyes. “Nothing’s wrong at all. Thank you again; I’ll let you get back on your way.”

The stranger nods, giving her a gentle smile, and continues down the road.

* * *

“Is this what you’re looking for, miss?”

The stranger picks up one of the bullets and holds it up to the sunlight peeking through the window to study the thin carvings in the metal. “Yes. It’s exactly right. The associate who sent me here made the right call. You really do know what you’re doing, sir.”

The gunsmith laughs. “I certainly hope so. What do you plan on doing with them? It’s not often that I get to make these kinds of bullets, for obvious reasons.”

“Oh, you mean you _don’t_ usually make illegal weapons? Funny, that.” The stranger sets the bullet she’s holding back into a case on the table and picks it up, sliding it into her pocket. “I actually have another request, if possible.”

“What kind?”

She takes her notebook out of her back pocket and flips it to a page, holding it out to the gunsmith.

He takes off his leather gloves, running a hand through his short dark hair before taking the notebook from her and studying the sketch. He whistles softly. “You’re serious, kid?”

“I am. Can you do it?”

“Yes. It will take a few days, at the very least, though.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

“What exactly are you hunting?”

She shrugs. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“As agreed, you can stay in the room upstairs. It won’t be as nice as the inn, though.”

“That’s fine. I’d rather be out of the way.” The stranger taps the brim of her hat. “I do need to retrieve my horse, though. I’ll be back later, sir.”

* * *

When the door opens, the innkeeper’s daughter is surprised by how pleased she is to see the stranger step into the building.

Before she can greet her, however, her mother steps out of the office and intercepts the stranger.

“We don’t house your kind here,” she says, her voice cold.

The stranger gives a small smirk as she removes her hat, setting it against her chest in a casually polite stance. “Could you clarify which part is the problem, miss? There are just so many options.”

The innkeeper narrows her eyes. “If you think I can’t sniff out magic the moment one of you heathens walks through my door, you’re a fool. I can have the sheriff here in moments.”

“That’s quite the accusation. Unprovable, but quite the accusation.” The stranger shrugs. “I’m not here to stay, anyway, miss.” She pulls the handkerchief out of her pocket. “I just wanted to return something that was misplaced.”

“You spoke to this woman?” The innkeeper demands, rounding on her daughter with wide eyes.

“It’s not an issue, Mother,” her daughter replies. “Believe me.”

“I do not approve of-”

She raises a hand to cut her mother off. “It’s not an issue. Just give me a few moments. This will not take long.” She walks up to the stranger and lowers her voice. “Step outside. You can’t be in here.”

The stranger nods, understanding in her eyes, and heads back out the door.

The innkeeper’s daughter leads her behind the building, ignoring the sky darkening from thunderclouds.

“I washed it before I came here, but I wanted to return it to you-”

Her words are cut off when the innkeeper’s daughter grabs her by her suspenders and shoves her up against the siding of the back of the building, holding her there. The motion knocks the stranger’s hat off, sending it into the dirt and leaving her blonde hair more visible.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

The stranger frowns. “What?”

She lifts the stranger’s arm and runs her thumb over the tattoo. “I can see a mark here. It wasn’t there the first time I saw you, but it’s there now. You really can use magic.”

There’s a long pause as the stranger studies her. “There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” the innkeeper’s daughter says, her voice a little shaky.

“Sure you’re not.” She chuckles quietly. “Magic’s outlawed, but a nice girl like you with a mother like that is perfectly fine with it.”

“I am not my mother. I don’t want to become her.”

“Then what are you, miss?” the stranger challenges with a grin.

“What am I? Or what do I want to be?”

“Your choice.”

“I want to become the bounty hunter who finds whoever killed my father,” she says without hesitation.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, not even flinching as rain begins to fall on them. “That’s an interesting choice for a woman like you.”

“And what exactly is a _‘woman like me’?”_

The stranger just smirks.

“Fine then. If you’re going to be smug, help me,” the innkeeper’s daughter says.

“What?”

“I’ve never left my town. Never traveled. You clearly have, and, while I know how to use a weapon, you clearly have more experience. Help me make things right.”

“I have a feeling that your mother would have me shot if she knew you were even considering such a thing.” The stranger pauses. “You hardly know me, miss.”

“That’s true. But that’s why you’re my only chance.” The innkeeper’s daughter shrugs. “Besides. I _feel_ like I know you. Does that make sense?”

“Not especially, but I feel it as well.” She nods after a moment. “I’ll do it. Hell knows I don’t have any better plans.”

The innkeeper’s daughter releases her and takes a step back. The stranger picks up her hat, brushing off some dirt before the rain can turn it to mud. As she sets it back on her head, the innkeeper’s daughter says, “Could I… Could I see it?”

“See what?”

“…Magic.”

The stranger laughs softly, then takes her notebook out of her pocket. She rips out a page and puts the book away, then holds the paper out, letting it get wet in the rain.

“Tell me, miss,” she says quietly. “Why don’t you hate people like me?”

“I’m not sure. You’re more interesting than terrifying, I suppose.”

The stranger holds the soaked paper up, so that they can both see it, and it bursts into flames. She continues to keep her grip even as the fire burns down to her fingertips, not even reacting to the heat.

“Some of us are,” she says, shaking the ash onto the ground out of her unburned hand.

“Perhaps so,” the innkeeper’s daughter admits. “I’ll just have to trust you, I suppose, miss.”

The stranger looks at her for a moment, the expression in her eyes unreadable. “Nolan.”

“What?”

“My family name is Nolan. I think it will be easier for you to find that trust if you have that power over me.”

The innkeeper’s daughter swallows. “You didn’t need to do that.”

She shrugs. “I guess I felt like I did, miss.”

“Greene.”

Nolan pales. “Miss…”

“I want you to trust me, too,” she says simply.

There’s a soft rumble of thunder above them, and Nolan takes her hat off briefly, setting it over her chest while she gives half a bow. “I’ll be staying at the gunsmith’s, Miss Greene. If you’d like to speak with me about this plan of yours, you know where to find me.”

“I’ll be sure to go looking for you, Miss Nolan.”

“Good.” She grins, looking a bit flushed, and sets the handkerchief in Greene’s hand. “I will look forward to it.” With a nod, she puts her hat back on her head and walks back towards the road at the front of the inn.

There’s another rumble of thunder, and Greene smiles, looking down at the handkerchief.

And watches, stunned, as a thick plain black tattoo slowly becomes visible around her left forearm.


End file.
